Cliffside
by thiswastheonlynamenottaken
Summary: In a medieval Zootopia, what was once a grand kingdom war had split into realms to restore peace. Still, one mammal strives to rule it all. A noble-born bunny who dreams of an exciting life finds herself stuck in the danger that threatens these new realms, and a fox who is said to be the last of his kind, corrupted by hate, sees this as an opportunity for another chance.
1. Half of a memory

_As you may know, this story was originally planned by Exalley, who did 2 (I think) versions of it before she no longer had the time to write. She has passed the plotline over to me, and together we have worked out a (hopefully) plot-hole-free version, set in what we call 'Old Zootopia', a medieval-like Zootopia. If Exalley has time, she might help write, but for the meantime, I will be the one writing this fan fiction._

 _Also apologies, 'Nick' isn't exactly how 'Nick' might be in the movie at the moment, personality wise, but I promise that will come later on. Anyway, here is the first part of the new and polished Cliffside. I do hope you enjoy! :)_

 _ **...**_

 _ **Half of a memory**_

Most palaces had hallways lined with tall arched windows. There was an image in his mind—one he was sure did not belong to him, but perhaps a story he had once been told—of how sunrays would beam through the colored glass and create grand mosaics of light on the white walls and floor. This palace hallway had tapestries to make up for the loss of windows. As large and intricate as they were in detail, the beautiful structures and bustling mammals they displayed bothered Nickolas, for they belonged to a city, long abandoned to the stench of dead lives amongst blackened wood.

It had to be linked to his mother, the fall of Cliffside, just like it had to be linked to the lord Harhowl himself. He did not know how, and perhaps he never would, but he did know this great lord kept Nickolas' mother's possessions locked away somewhere special, separate from the rest of the retrieved rubble that had been put into the basement.

Reverting his eyes from the tapestries washed away any pain he had begun to feel. Now was not the time for pain. The fall of the city and the death of his mother were twenty years in the past, so long ago any memory he might have had of the catastrophe had faded with his kit age. Still, there was a memory of hate he had grown then, and rather than fading, this hate grew with each day his one true enemy lived. Nickolas put a slight spring to his step, and a hummed song to the still air, then a paw to his back where his claws brushed the hilt of a quarterstaff.

It was only moments before the first guard came leaping for him from around a corner, twice as tall as he yet only half as fast. The wolf was down in a matter of seconds, bleeding from the side of his head. The second arrived instantly thereafter, grinning stupidly as he looked his opponent up and down, but fell to the staff rammed into his side and neck. Nickolas slid the wooden stick back into its sheath, deciding that the humming could wait until the true fighting began; he didn't see the need to attract more attention than he should in the lair of his enemy.

So he strolled the halls in silence, the sweet melody of the tune he loved repeating itself over in his mind. The more turns he made and spiraling stairways he climbed, the closer he got to his goal, but also closer to danger. Now in the most upper part of the cave-like realm, in the highest quarters of the stone-walled palace that belonged to the Harhowl family, He risked running into a rival with every step he took.

But then he stopped in his tracks.

"…Lord, surely there is another choice."

The words would not have been caught if not for his sensitive ears. His eyebrows raised in curiosity and he tracked the voice to the closest doorway, arched and twice as tall as it was wide. The thick wooden doors engraved in carvings stood slightly ajar, enough to peak through to catch a glimpse of two mammals. A weasel and a wolf. His teeth bared. The memory of hate that had grown over the years became a firm stone in his chest. Out of the two, it was only one of these animals he narrowed his eyes at with ire.

 **...**

"Another choice?" the laugh echoed eerily through the long chamber, which he had always thought lacked decoration. Grimmund lounged on his grand seat he often liked to imagine as a throne, and irritably ran his claws along the indents of claw marks on the armrest, which he himself had made in instants of anger. He could feel his muscles tensing in annoyance already, but the fact the weasel before him flinched each time his claws made that whispering _scrape_ kept him from bellowing out at the mammal. Fear was such a satisfying thing. "Another option? Tell me, what other option can there possibly be, _Weasleton_?"

"My lord, she is a _bunny_." As meek as Weasleton appeared to act around him, there was never a moment he did not speak with a scowl on his muzzle as if disagreeing with everything Grimmund said. Another flinch followed his words, however.

"Indeed!" Grimmund snarled. "I would not risk exposure with only half a chance of succeeding with another more _suitable_ mammal. With no one easier to reach except the widowed Lady Big, who you know would make house Harhowl look weak if not a laughing stock, the unbetrothed daughter of the Hopps about to go into her eighteenth year is a perfect choice. But please, speak up if you can suggest a _better_ alternative."

Weasleton hunched over as much as his slinky form would let him and scoffed. "Apologies for speaking up, my lord." It was hard to tell whether he meant it sincerely.

Grimmund flicked a hand in a dismissive manner and sighed. The mammal would be taught manners another day, but time was running short. "Take as many soldiers as you must. I expect her brought to me in a weeks time, Understand? Good, now scurry along, they have a ball in three days. I assume that is where she is most vulnerable, surrounded by sugary dresses and gossip rather than guards."

The weasel looked as if he'd protest, but nodded grimly and scurry away like he was told to do.

Grimmund was left alone, with nothing but his nails going _scrape_ against the wooden seat, and the continuous rasp of the waterfall against the one and only window. If he looked beyond that curtain of water which ran along the wall of his home, he could see a small yellow speck of light shrinking as the sun began to set. The chamber grew dark with but one lantern to give off light. Time was running short.

 **...**

Nickolas felt like half of his memories rested with his mother's possessions, but he left them behind for another time when he chose to run away. Whether it was for the sake of the innocent he had still to meet, the safety of Zootopia or his own personal revenge, he was not sure. He was sure, however, that the plans of that particular wolf would not succeed at whatever cost. He was sure of it with all the passion in his heart; with the other half of his memories—the hate, which warned him that the wolf caused the fall of the Cliffside realm, and would cause the fall of the others too.

He had a three-day race to win.


	2. Running from fear I

_So sorry this is posted so late! It was finished a week after the first part of Cliffside, but my laptop broke and I couldn't upload it, and I was planning to upload this last Monday but completely forgot! anyway, here it is._

 **. . .**

 **running from fear I**

The high-domed ballroom was lined with great mosaics and pillars intricately carved in designs of vegetable vines from the floor up to where they met the ceiling. A hum of constant chatter filled this ballroom, as well as at least a thousand small noblemammals, and the extra entertainers hired to show the wealth of house Hopps rather than mere amusement.

Judith Hopps, the last-born rabbit in the 'J' litter, had been forced into the most bothersome dress then told to float around and greet any newcomers with a warm smile. The music was already enough to lull her to sleep—every new tune sounded the same to the grey bunny's ears—though only the reminder on her mother's scowls kept her from dropping dead when she made her way to from the third mammal she'd conversed with that evening to find a fourth. Surely there was something better to be doing with her time. The bunnies in The Burrows village always had things to do, some games to play, some chores to finish, the farms to care for. But here she was, at her family's estate wasting her time on a ball that got her nowhere, watching other rabbits eating the food produced by those village bunnies who got only more things to do in return.

Out the corner of her eye, Judith saw her sister across the room in a dress like hers but colored a pale blue rather than violet. Both dresses looked glossy underneath the many chandeliers, and both had similar long draping sleeves, and a slim waist design that spread wide from the hips down. Other than the color, the only difference was the fact it looked way better on Jesmaine than it did on Judith.

 _Jesmaine_. Judith despised her first-born litter sister. Jesmaine was everything Judith could not be. Jesmaine was the perfect bunny, betrothed to the highest buck a nobledoe could possibly dream of marrying, and had eyes that shone like the hundred amethyst jewels she wore around her neck and wrists. Judith had paler fur, duller violet eyes and was about a paw-length shorter than the average doe. Jesmaine's stride as she moved from mammal to mammal was more of a glide, and when she spoke, she attracted at least a dozen surrounding does that clung to every word coming from her rosy-lipped muzzle as if they were gifts she spoke. Judith, instead, tripped over most long hind paws in her path and begged herself not to say something she'd regret.

"Lady Judith Hopps," The voice came from behind, and she felt like she'd gotten a bucket of ice thrown over her. Her dress flayed as she spun with wide eyes, ashamed of being caught so off guard, but found herself facing another of her litter siblings, the even fairer furred Jakren. "I seem to have startled you, dear sister."

"You cabbage-plucking, rotten carrot!" Judith growled, earning a mock disapproving frown from him, then her muzzle split into a wide grin. "I almost thought you were another nobledoe. Oh, Jak, you don't know how terrible it is speaking to them one after the other."

Jak took her arm and they began to walk idly to one of the long tables set up to display a wide range of exquisite food. "Really? I find it rather pleasing."

"Jakren!" Judith had the urge to tick his ears. She giggled anyway and unlooped her arm from his to reach for some sweets.

"Has not any buck taken interest in you tonight? This is not the first ball I've had to save you from drowning amongst all of the gossip, Judith, and it might be the last time I can. Once I am wed to my betrothed I'm afraid I'll be so captured in all the mammals bidding me congratulations that by the time they're done the ball will be over." He wore a teasing grin on his face. It was not normal for a mammal almost in their eighteenth year to still be unbetrothed. Judith just didn't fit in with the others. She didn't want to restrain herself to a marriage where she cared for hundreds of children while the husband ran the estate. No, she wanted to do something useful around the Burrows, if not the entire Zootopia—though she was not exactly sure what it would be yet.

"No buck." She sighed and took a nibble of the carrot tart in her paw, glaring at her sister who was now twirling around on the raised dance floor with her husband-to-be, and around the room she easily picked out a range of her older siblings of different litters, all in a marriage and some already with children old enough to mingle with the rest of the court.

"Is it not time you find one then?" Jak worried over her, his favorite sister. Judith appreciated it of course, but he did not understand her on this matter like he did on other matters.

She just shook her head and watched her brother smile apologetically as he was beaconed over by a white-furred doe wearing a daring green dress, Leire.

Jesmaine has her buck, Jak had Leire, and the 'K' litter had already begun to dedicate themselves to a betrothal while she—

"Lady Judith Hopps?" She was startled for the second time, spinning to find not her brother, but a noblebuck she did not know the name of, which meant he must be a buck of a lesser house. She only paid attention to her tutors when she was taught something important, and knowing every mammal's name of each house in the Burrows did not seem so useful to her. "Apologies for surprizing you, but I… I think you should come along with me, my lady."

She remained in her startled state as he grabbed her paw and linked her arm with his to lead her away from the sweets table. She was so dumbstruck she stumbled along with him until she was already most of the way to an open balcony, obscured by thin drapes wavering slightly in the wind. Only when she came to her sensed she stopped in her tracks and glowered at him with disbelief. "My lord, I think not!"

"Lady Judith, I beg you to come. You must trust me."

"Where do you plan on taking me?" She stood as defiantly as she could, hoping it looked convincing.

"My lady, do not make me drag you along. I _plead_ , come along."

"What reason do I have to trust you if you will not tell me why?"

"I… lady Judith, it is not me. It is a… a _mammal_ who asked to see you, outside on the balcony, _please_."

Judith only had time to open her muzzle in response when a crash came from the glass dome over the ballroom, and three wolves almost half as tall as the ballroom's pillars came leaping through. She was one of the last to process the situation because soon the guests all broke out in hysterical screams and scattered through the first doorway they could reach. Once the doorways became crammed, rabbits dashed beneath tables and curled themselves in balls on the floor as if it would defend them against the predators. The noblebuck beside her grabbed her arm and with a desperate look on his face tried to haul her to the balcony, and without question this time, she leaped into motion and ran with him.

The wolves turned their stares to her and she felt like hiding. She paid no mind to the tears streaming down her cheeks, and to her hind paws aching in pain from the splinters of broken glass that littered the floor, only that she kept running, no matter where she ran to.

Until a large paw caught her arm. The sudden stop of speed as she was jerked back caused her to heave free of the sharp-clawed grip but also from the grip of the other bunny. She slid across the smoothed stone floor in a crumpled heap, catching shards of glass through her dress and into her delicate skin. A wall stopped her and she whimpered, glad at least the constant pain of sliding through the splinters was over. The moment lasted shortly when what she thought had been a wall pushed her, and once again she slid, this time really hitting a wall; the doorframe of the balcony. She scrambled outside with each part of her sore and peered through a gap in the drapes if only to see if she were safe.

 _Jesmaine. Jak. Mother and father._ They had to be safe too. The wolves seemed to only face her direction, which made her want to cower as far away as possible. Still, she watched out of fear, sobbing all the while. There was nothing but a black-cloaked figure between the balcony and the predators, a tall mammal, though dwarfed beside the three it seemed to oppose. Besides the black figure lay the bunny that tried to take her to the balcony, and her sobbing only deepened when she realized he was face down in a pool of his own oozing blood from the gaping claw marks across his back. Still, she continued to watch, too horrified to look away.

The black-clad mammal turned it's head, revealing a long muzzle peaking out of the hood before it's full face was visible to Judith. Through the gap in the drapes, they met eyes, and she shot back from the doorway unable to watch any longer.

She pressed her back against the outside wall, in the shadow next to the glow from inside, curling her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth to soothe herself. _This is not real._ It could not be real. She refused to believe it was anything other than a nightmare. Impossible things happened in dreams and nightmares.

She pretended if she made herself into a ball small enough, she would disappear into the shadows completely, and wake up sweating in bed.

But nothing happened, and time passed, and howling screams came from the ballroom, and Judith wailed and wept until her eyes begun to hurt, and she did not wake up from the nightmare even if she tugged at her ears until she thought they'd come out of her head. She'd always dreamed of some thrilling event where she could show her bravery, and yet here she trembled like a kit. The realization that she had no nightmare to wake up from came when something seized her shoulder.

The howling screams had long stopped.

She raised her head and met those eyes once again. Her vision blurred to blackness right after.

. . .

Bonne Hopps helped the bloody-faced Stuis Hopps to his feet and cupped his face, which he clutched so protectively with his own paws. The dome had shattered above their heads, and there had been such chaos, and it began to rain glass. She shook her head and sighed, suspecting her husband would only ever see out of one eye from this day on. Scanning her head over the scattered and frightened guests only just recovering, she counted out her large family one by one. She also sent guards to check on the younger sleeping kits, for she would not know what to do if a single one of them had been harmed. Those poor, innocent, defenseless kits, and if there were more than three wolves, she was certain they would have killed every one of them.

The three wolves now lay on the floor, spilling almost enough blood to cover the entire floor in a thin layer. It was but a paw-length from creeping to her skirts, which now bore a huge tear from where it got caught on the end of a table. _Predators. Such vicious things._ Bonne did not understand why they were not yet overpowered and kept under control by the larger amount of Zootopia's prey.

She left Stuis' side hesitantly and made her way around the room, continuing her count of family, and ordering around a swarm of maids and guards while doing so. Before she could make a full walk around the ballroom, the blood was being wiped away, and the wolves dragged off to be one of her children had to be safe. She did not spend years raising them all, litter after litter, for them to be mindlessly slaughtered by a beast.

"My Lady." A rabbit, dressed in grab that would identify him as a servant, frantically made a bow to her, and glared at her with begging eyes while he waited for her approval to speak to her.

"What is it? Do you not see I am busy?" She wanted to continue her count. She would not rest until it was complete, with all of her kits confirmed unharmed. She was so sure now, with so many kits already counted, that they had been lucky. There was only one dead rabbit visible, after all, only of a lesser house. Surely her kits were all safe then.

"Your daughter, Judith. I saw the wolves go for her when the rest were running for their lives, my Lady."

Panic was like a sword to her heart. "She is alright now, yes?"

"She scampered onto the balcony when that…strange _mammal_ came in to defeat the wolves. That was the last I saw of her, my Lady. After the mammal left, she was no longer there."

Bonne screeched to whatever guard seemed to be listening, "Find her! Find my Judith!" She felt her knees waver. "Find her…" She collapsed onto the floor sobbing, her only remaining 'J' litter cubs rushing over with concern.

"Mother?" Jakren whispered while Jesmaine curled her arms around her with teary eyes. Jakren sank to his knees too, then placed a comforting paw on her arm. "What is wrong, Mother? What happened to Judith?"

"Find her." was all she could mutter, and she returned Jesmaine's tight embrace.

. . .

 _For those who read the old Cliffside, you probably realised Judy is not the oldest of the oldest litter anymore, her bother changed from 'Zack' to 'Jakren', her sister from 'Jessica' to 'Jesmaine', and she is not in an arranged betrothal to that buck Austin (that would be Jesmaine, but she was going to marry him in the old plot anyway, and honestly, he was never a very relevant character in any version of Cliffside, which is why I did not name him anything other than 'the highest buck any doe could dream of marrying' in this new version.)_

 _And though 'lady' is more human than mammal, I couldn't think of a better word to use. You have to agree 'Lady Judith' sounds better than 'Doe Judith' or whatever heh._

 _Also, I know Judy is supposed to be that brave bunny that stands up to bullies, but I need her to be scared just this one time. Her bravery is yet to be discovered ;)_


	3. Running from fear II

_I apologize for completely forgetting I had the responsibility of writing this XD I had a busy few weeks lately so heh, probably why. Anyway, I worked extra hard on this chapter to hopefully make up for that..._

 **. . .**

 **Running from fear II**

Somewhere in the seemingly endless rolling hills surrounding the Burrows, beyond the many vegetable farms, a small cluster of tents and torch-flames rested placidly beneath the moon. The few occupants were mourning for three of their people lost, and only the cold wind whistling could be heard, swaying the tent flaps and flags like silent, ever-moving sea waves.

"She was stolen from our paws."

The canvas walls were not enough to keep the warmth of the fire inside and the biting cold wind out. A polished desk stood lonely in the middle of the round closure; all the other lavishes around the tent like the gold-coated candlestick and silky drapes were irrelevant now that his plan had failed, after all, if he came home empty handed, it'd all be taken from him. Without them—the riches he couldn't resist—he'd be nowhere.

"We really did have her, my Lord. She was right in our grasp but…" The scout shivered under the weasel's stare that dared the small feline to say more. Usually, Weasleton considered himself a negotiable mammal, one that would rather have a wine with his enemies and make a deal rather than fight. He knew he good with his words and all, even better at seeming meek if it meant he got what he wanted. And he always got what he wanted, but now there would be no negotiating with Lord Harlow.

"Speak up, ya' kitten! _"_ Weasleton scowled and let the ink of his pen blotch over the newly written letter. He would have to re-word it, somehow. Twist a few words and sentences perhaps. How could one make a loss seem like a success on the limited space of a slip of paper?

"I swear it, my Lord." The cat whined and cowered as if Weasleton's hard glare physically hurt. "It was a…a fox."

 _A fox ruined his plans?_ Hysterically, Weasleton threw his muzzle up and laughed, hitting the polished wood with his fist. It didn't last long. He watched the pot of ink rock, and tip over the corner of the desk. It dropped just as he realised—bizarre as it was—if there truly was a fox, his problem was worse than he had thought. In a quick blur, the ink hit the rug with a light thud and began to leak black over his floor, and slowly the corners of his mouth dropped.

"A fox?" weasleton pulled his lips in a tight line again, and snapped his mouth around his pipe to keep the anger or fear from showing. "What madness is this? I've heard a story of a sheep that claims to be the best swordsmammal and of a mouse more wealthy in coins than the old-age kings and queens, but what in your furball-filled mind came up with this tall tale?"

"I swear it on my life, there was a fox!" The scout leant forward, placing his paws on the edge of the desk. His hazel cat eyes were full of plead, a wanting to be believed. Anyone who claimed to have seen a fox must have gone mad—they were all wiped from Zootopia years ago, every _single_ one. "There is no redder fur than that of a fox, and my lord, and I tell you, he had a pelt the color of fire!"

 _A pelt I want to see hanging on the wall or used as a floor rug!_ Weasleton irritably blew a fine stream of smoke into the feline's face, causing him to back away from the desk coughing. "See yourself out, will ya'?" and as commanded, the scout nodded and scurried through the tent flap. The bowl of fire blazed in the wind for a slight second, but when no more wind came through the opening and the flames calmed, an iciness stayed in the air.

He scrunched the letter he'd once thought he would send to his master and slid a new slip from the pile of blank sheets. He set the red wax to melt above a small candle and retrieved a fresh inkpot from a drawer, as well as a new pen for the sake of it. He did not start writing, he did not know _what_ was he meant to write; he only flicked the inkbottle's clog away, and watched it fly away from him hopelessly. If only his troubles flew off that easily.

. . .

The wind whistled hauntingly, wisping leaves and dust into the air from the dry dirt floor. The frostiness of the night air managed to find every nook and crack to slip into, so no place, no walls and no blankets could stop it. A cottage rose arrogantly from the ground, like a big bully to its surrounding landscape, decorated with pots of flowers and grasses like a rich mammal was decorated with gold, though the hinges of the door creaked agonizingly while it let itself be swung open, then shut, then back again, and the breeze rattled its windows as much as it did to the stubby shed a few paces off its firm Burrows' brick-and-mud structure.

The farm might as well been abandoned by its appearance, though the silence, Judith hoped, was only because of the late hour. Feeling completely bare in the crumpled silk gown, she shivered and rubbed her arms till her skin felt sore, still, the bitter air managed to crawl to her bones. Never had she felt so lonely, nor been in a place so lonesome.

She tried not to listen to the whispers of the wind, howling through the many rusted holes the old shed had. If she payed too much attention, they sounded like cries of pain and terror, coming to run cold fingers of fear down her spine. She was already terrified to the point her tears had gone dry, and though the realization had long drilled into her mind that this was no nightmare she'd wake from, she longed for some sleep to come and take her away. But her thoughts raced too much to sleep, and her heart beat fast, though she felt no warmth of blood running through her veins… Her thoughts swam and her vision went black. She woke up in a shock when the back of her head hit the cold metal wall behind her a second later.

She was hopeless. The corners of her vision still swayed and twinkled with black stars.

"No." Was all Judith could mutter, with her jaw chattering more every passing second she still lived. Hazy memories popped up every now and then, but in this state of mind, they were only a bother to her.

 _Blood-loss._ Wearily, She raised a paw before her face. Blood had made her silky fur go crisp and dark there. Although it was long dry, it felt comforting to keep her paw on her shoulder. Three gaping cuts still throbbed out hot red liquid, though nearly not as much as before from what she remembered, which was a relief. When she bent her head over to check the cuts—not that she could see much in the dimly starlit place; she could barely make out some surrounding farm tools, and the hay beneath her she only knew was there by touch—dizziness took over a second time, reminding her just how bad it was. _Did the fox leave me here to die, in this cold shed? Or will it come back for me?_ Not that it mattered, being dead or held captive by a mammal not meant to exist, now only known in tales for how cunning they were. It was the reason they were killed, for the good of Zootopia, so she'd heard once…

"No." Again, Judith gasped, shakily trying to haul herself to her hind paws. The fox had put her in this shed, and told her to stay. But while she sat here feeling light headed and hoped for the best, the red furred mammal roamed freely around this farm, and she did not want to imagine what it might be doing. In legends about the savage ages, they were said to prey on her kind.

The first attempt to stand did not go well, and with a pounding headache, she tumbled forward in a clamor of shovels and hoes. She brushed off as much hay and attempted again, whimpering in pain for her shoulder, and squinting her eyes as if it would help her to stay conscious. This time, she stumbled out of the shelter and onto the dirt and dead grass blotched ground. Her vision whipped around. Like a blanket of ice had formed around her, she shook and cuddled her arms around her torso in little hope that it would do something.

She faintly remembered how she'd felt when she sat huddled on her manor balcony, similar to how she was in that shed, crying and afraid. The feelings, like she felt them now all over again, tied her stomach in a knot. Hopelessness.

She would _not_ be hopeless. Never again.

Faster than a crawl but not nearly as fast as she wanted to be going, she staggered towards the cottage and it's swinging door. "Stay." She mimicked the fox through her quaking jaw. _Like rotten carrots, I'll stay._ She tried to disregard the other part of her mind, telling her it was both easier and safer to remain in the shed. What was she planning to do, anyway? Stand up to a fox? She pushed her speed to her limits as if trying to get away from those fingers of cold fear that drifted with the light wind around her but suddenly the breeze picked up from a gentle blow of bitter temperature to a wail of dust and leaves, and her knees buckled beneath her. It took a while for the woozy stars to leave her vision.

Judith looked up blearily to the sound of moaning hinges, shading her eyes from flying dirt and grit, and before her the door swung madly back and forth in the strong gale. Beyond it lay dark shadows of the house, calling her towards them eerily. She followed them onto the wooden floor, and let the darkness swathe her.

"Hello?" The voice was quakier than what her own would have sounded if she had been the one speaking. In shock, her ears perked up. "Hello? Who comes in?" A gentle tapping of paws on stairs was muted by the chaotic outside storm. Her own hind paws made a gentle groan on the floorboards as she tracked the sound deeper into the house. Moonlight seeping from the nearest shuttered window only just helped her avoid a table and chair, and guide her way to the next doorframe where the speaker's voice seemed to come from.

"I… I know there is someone here. Who comes?" There was the terrified shaky voice again, just around the corner it had to be coming from. Before she turned to see, however, she noticed one thing; the house seemed to be undisturbed. The chair she'd almost hit was in line with the one beside it, tucked tidily under the table. The vegetables hanging from the ceiling on strings to dry swayed only lightly, and taking a sniff at the air, the only foul smell lurking was the common smell around a village mammal, a smell that said they needed a bath. When she realized she was trying to smell for a scent of death, relief washed over her. Of course the voice was quaking with fright; she'd walked in like she was the one not afraid. Perhaps if this rabbit was alright, it and whoever else lived here could help her.

But the relieved sigh never left her muzzle, for a red shadow appeared over her head and swung down from above the doorframe in a blur, with a cloak streaming behind it. She didn't even have time to scream before a paw clamped over her mouth so tightly she thought she might suffocate. _No_ , she was suffocating. Her legs were the first thing to go limp. The dizziness and black vision returned.

. . .

She woke with the sky pink and the sun gleaming. Reaching for her shoulder, Judith jolted up with shock remembering, once again, the blood, and the claw marks, and... When her paw touched what was supposed to be cut skin and crisp fur, she felt fabric, rough and the color of dirt, but patched up neatly to cover her wounds and stop any bleeding. She gasped in and with it came a sudden whiff of hay. She sat up, her head spinning for a slight second, and looked beneath her to see exactly what she'd been expecting; hay. She was not expecting, however, to find herself in the back of a large wagon. Curiously, she peaked over a large mound of the dry straw she rested against, and only had enough time to see the cart being pulled by a single ram clad in a usual peasant's brown, wiping his brow with sweat.

"Let's not let him know we're here, cottontail." The fox hissed from besides her, his claw-tipped paw pulling her back down behind the stack of hay. For a moment, all she could do was stare in dumbstruck awe, watching the red fur blaze under the sun like a fire, before her fear took over. Her jaw, she'd only noticed had been gawping just now, snapped shut.

She lost her mind on deciding how to react; how could she choose between terror, curiosity, anger, and the hundreds of emotions rushing through her. With brow furrowed and mouth pulled tight—the only reaction that managed to crawl out—, she continued to stare. For a moment, she met his emerald eyes and the grassy plains around them passed in a blur. Then he turned his head away, and the black hood of his cloak came up over his ears and shadowed his muzzle.

Judith almost though he did that because of her, but then the gravel path widened onto a hard-packed dirt road, ten times wider than the road they were just on. Mammals of all sorts bustled in both directions, some in fine robes and broad sun hats, fussing to white-clad slaves about the sluggish speed, others having self-pulled wagons like one she sat in. The majority of the mammals walked; alone, in groups, with a small carry bag or with bedrolls and leather backpacks stacked over their shoulders. _So many_ , was all she could think, and not even a slight weariness of the fox besides her crept past the amazement.

She scampered through the hay to the wooden cart barrier and leant over, poking her head out and letting her ears swing with the motion. They were passing over a body of water, so wide the other side of the bridge looked small. The blue water winked sunlight at her in playful ripples. The stone railings that ran along the bridge seemed so close she could touch them, but the though of tumbling out into the lake beyond stopped her and she giggled. She stuck to admiring the work put into the grand structure, however; she could make out floral carvings that must of taken years to finish completely, faded by rain and wind but still beautiful as they would have been the day they were made.

The fox passed her a folded bundle, and half-minded she let it unfold into a cloak, which she pulled over her shoulders for warmth. He left as quietly as he came. She was too fascinated to care. It was a thousand times grander than it'd been described in stories; the Zootopia Express, the road that ran through the whole city of Zootopia, where mammals of all kinds from all realms mingled on a single long strip of dirt. And this was only the start of that road.

Then, there she could see it. Beyond the grand gates at the end of the bridge, coated in a cloud of early morning mist, towers built from wood and stone and brick pointed up towards the sky, standing proud in their own shape and color. Zootopia.

Despite all that had happened—the nightmare that would never end, the fear she'd experienced, and the _fox_ —Judith smiled a genuine smile. In the rough grey cloak of a common-mammal, with everyone besides her and her captor oblivious to the fine dress she wore beneath it, she could be anything.

. . .

 ** _Oh, but Judy, it's not Zootopia you're heading to ;)_**

 _I'm focusing more on Judy than Nick now, just playing around a bit with her discovering bravery and wonder and stuff. Nick will have his turn, don't worry._


	4. Confrontation

_Sorry for taking so long to write again. I'll try to update more often, promise_ _J_

 **. . .**

 **Confrontation**

The street stood still behind her; while each individual building was its own amazing artwork, with an occasional green sprout, tree or patch flowers decorating the place, she had long lost interest in them. Zootopia, the grand city where any mammal could be anything, had excited her for so many years. Too many times to count had she dreamt of doing some good here, and one day returning to Burrows to find a proud family. Ironic though, that now she was here in these streets she once wished to walk, she would do no good as a prisoner, and if she ever did come back to her family, she doubted her protective mother and father would let her from their sight again, unless perhaps they married her off, but then she'd have a husband who'd never let her from his sight.

 _Life is unfair_ , She almost sighed, but held it in.

Not letting her disappointment show, Judith held her chin up strong, hoping at least that would do _some_ good. The fox, just silent as he'd been since the second he'd taken her, met her stare evenly. "I am lady Judith Hopps, oldest unbetrothed daughter of Lord Hopps of the Burrows, and you _will_ answer me." She tried again. The more she said it—the more she asked questions and realized the tales about foxes being vicious were only tales—her voice lost its quake, and her fear slowly begun to shrink to a slight caution in the back of her mind. Perhaps when the tales said they were evil creatures, they merely meant this. She thought this fox was no more than bothersome.

Expecting nothing but that unbroken glare from those emerald eyes, she was slightly shaken when his lids dropped in what seemed like annoyance, now looking at her through narrow slits. She hoped the skin beneath her cheek fur didn't show a blush. "Well," she continued in a cool tone, composing herself, "why did you take me?" Her foot twitched and she folded her arms. The only thing that stopped her from stomping was the fact she sat against a haystack in the back of a carriage, using the little time she had to speak aloud, now that the ram who owned the cart was away somewhere taking a whizz.

He opened his mouth to speak, finally, but the clinking of hooves on the rough stone pavement brought both their ears to perk up. All the fox did was bring a finger to his lips to hush her and then his hood was over his face more than it had been before, his red muzzle falling under the cover of black shadows.

"Oi!" The ram stood behind her, his breath ruffling her ears, which then drooped in an instant. "I don't let mamm'ls ride my cart f' free!"

. . .

Just a stray road off the main way of the Zootopia Express, dim lanes starkly contrasted with the ever-blooming Burrows and its busy fields. Gloomy was the first word that popped into most mammal's minds when they looked upon this nameless village, most likely including those that might call it home. No one looked particularly happy either; shutters shut quickly when he passed and suspicion hung thickly in the air, but the inhabitants had no shame to hide their staring eyes through slots in doors and half-pulled curtains.

He tried to meet their eyes through the un-cleaned glass sometimes, but when they looked away, only his moving reflection stared back.

At least, some fair-furred rabbit's reflection did. He did not recognize himself.

Jakren's pale pelt was considered rare amongst the warmer greys and browns usually seen in Burrows, though he was not completely albino. He considered himself to have a sleek build rather than tough, and his height was by a hair above average, topped with finely pointed ears. His eyes, rather than the red that usually went with white fur, were solely blue, which was another feature that set him apart, even from the little _true_ albinos around. But it was not that which made his mirroring persona in windows he passed seem peculiar. Not even the black dye he'd painted on in some parts was. This mammal, clothed in a dirtied white shirt and tedious grey stockings—that was not who he was. But it was who he'd have to be.

He stopped when he could no longer see his reflection and he realized he was before an inn, where an abnormally welcoming radiance shone out through the murky windows. Voices could be heard as well, creating the image that the town was not as dead as it looked at first sight; he just hoped he wouldn't regret his crazy idea coming here in the first place.

This was his first stop tonight and he hoped it would also be his last, for back at home he knew a warm stew and a worried Leire waited to welcome him, and he did not wish to delay that any longer than he had to.

At that thought, he entered.

Over his head lay a cloud of pipe-smoke, as thick and dark as the feeling of suspicion outside on the streets. Streams of it dissolved into the night air as the door slowly swayed shut behind him. Through that haze, candles' dancing flames glowed softly from stands on the walls, and a fire pit in the corner warmed the room enough to make the atmosphere appear at least a little more pleasant. Jakren moved to the smaller mammal's space that was occupied by mainly hares, rabbits and rats, and then leant on the inn's front counter, which was about the only place he was offered, the tables and benches all being taken.

On his right, a jill in a flimsy gown gave him a glance but continued to pull her ears and flatter her eyes at the innkeeper, and on his right a jack and a buck who had been chatting over something turned to give him a stony stare. The taller distant relative of his kind looked down at him with a look of authority he was only used to seeing on his father, but just as he was about to break out, he remembered here no one knew who he was, and no one cared, so his jaw snapped shut.

Jakren let the hare look him up and down with his contemplating dark eyes, but when the jack gave him a shove as if to test him, he returned a push. "What's a drunk lord like you doing in these parts? Ain't got no where else to be?"

Jack returned their glares hoping in some way it looked frightening, though suspected it didn't because their faces only scrunched up more, wicked smiles twisting on their mouths as if he were a court fool and they were being kept amused. "I'm looking for someone." Was all he said and hoped his authority was clear when he and offhandedly asked a passing servant to fetch him some wine, treating the hares like it was he, not them, in control of this conversation.

Apparently, that was humorous. Both hare and buck laughed, telling the servant to instead 'bring the lord some of the good stuff', seeing her off with a spanking to her bottom. Jakren was mildly horrified by the behavior, but before he could open his mouth the jack spoke.

"Looking for someone, eh, lordling?" he sneered. "Decided to get your hands dirty rather than sending a guard or some shit like that?"

Jakren's lips tightened. "I have my reasons." And he did, but he knew if he told them he was here because he felt like this task was his burden personally to carry, they'd only crack up more than they had at him asking for wine. _What else would I drink?_ He mulled. _Their weak ale?_

"Well, if ya' looking for someone, there's gotta be at least one of your interest over there." The buck quipped, nodding to a table in the back corner of the room with his malicious grin winding to his ears. That far end of the room was lit by no more than a single clouded lantern, so he had to squint to see what the buck meant. When he saw, he felt blood rise up all the way to his ears, and his jaw went slack, completely startled. Oh, he saw what the buck meant now, but he wished he hadn't. He snapped his head away from the does and their gapingly low necklines, but their flirtatious smiles haunted him for a few seconds afterwards. Evidently, even the dirtied shirt and his dullest stockings still showed he had money. He felt guilty, though he had done nothing. _My deepest apologies, Leire_. _I didn't choose what I had to see._

"A nice jest," Jakren said flatly, only now realizing he might regret this insane idea of his. "But I'm looking for someone who knows their mammals. You know? Someone I can use to perhaps, lets say, track someone down."

"Ah, so the lord's getting up to some crooked work, eh?" The jack snickered, but finally something about the smirk on his face, deceiving as it was, told him it was no longer at him, but with him. "Look, I'm not your hare, but him, there." Jakren followed the hare's yellow-clawed finger to a table beside the does'. "He got what you need."

. . .

"What do you need, _lordling_?" The mammal the hare had pointed to was a rat, Merek. Even sitting at the same table as the rodent, his jet-black fur made it difficult to tell him apart from the shadows around them. The fact his robe was black did not help either, only adding to the confusion. Only the chains and trinkets hanging from his neck and wrists glistened in the little firelight, as well as two beady eyes that reflected the candles flickering flame, making them seem always eerily observing.

Before Jakren, a brass cup of 'the good shit' the hare had told the servant to get him sat untouched. It was awful stuff, which made his face twist in horror with even the smallest sip. He had no clue what it was, but it lacked any spices or just enjoyable flavor in general. He looked away from the table to equal the Merek's gaze. "I need someone who can track any mammal in the whole of Zootopia. The jack over there. He told me you're the one to ask."

"Ay." The rat nodded, flashing rotten teeth in a slack smile. He gulped his drink down without making a face, and Jakren wondered how he did it. "I know some people. One in particular. Assassinating, delivering a message, tracking, she does it all. She comes and goes of course, but I believe she's back here for a while, and from personal experience and other's, she's the best there is."

"Really?" he leant forward, resting his elbows on the rugged wooden table. It was all too good to believe. Perhaps this inane idea of his wasn't that mad after all. "And where can I find _her_?"

Merek let out a crackling laugh. "You think it's so easy? My help don't come without coins. I need to make a living too, got it?" Looking at the jewels around the rat's neck, he knew about how much he'd have to give.

"I understand," Jakren said coolly, pulling out a pouch he expected he'd have to take out eventually to bribe. It chinked when it hit the table. "Do we have a deal, friend?"

Without even giving the coins a check, Jakren knew that Merek knew that those coins were more than just silvers. "Ay. We do." Licking his lips, the rat held out a rubbery paw. "Tomorrow, around here, round' this time. I'll take you to see her, lordling—"

"Jak." Jakren battered hastily, then turned that into a grin; cunning, like the one the hare had worn talking to him. "You will call me Jak." He reached out and grasped Merek's paw, confirming their agreement.

. . .

"I'm not looking for any trouble either, sir." Nikolas held his head bowed in false deepest sincerity. His muzzle was well and safely sheltered beneath the cloak hood, and his ears flat against his head, he just hoped the ram did not question whom—or more importantly, what—he was.

Behind him, the lady Judith stood timidly but poised, _thankfully_ letting him lead the conversation. Nikolas knew how to deal with mammals, manipulate them to get his will if he needed, but by the way the doe had acted towards him, she seemed, as adorable as she was, quite naïve and extremely capable of getting them into some jeopardy if she opened her muzzle. One time she was afraid, the next curious, then she became a blaze of fluffy fury, demanding he answer her as if she were commanding a servant in her rich household. The ram would not respond so well to her as he had.

"Then you wouldn't of stepped foot near my cart." Looking up from beneath the hood, Nikolas saw the large mammal's muzzle crumple in anger. "I do not know, nor care, how long you have been riding in my hay, but you do owe me. You're lucky I'm not forcing you to pay the worth of the straw you damaged!"

"Look, sir," He pushed the accusing hoof away from pointing at his face with a gloved paw. "We are but poor mammals, looking for a place in Zootopia. We truly meant no harm." He flashed Judith behind him a glance, meeting her lavender-colored eyes firmly. Looking like she was about to protest against the fibs he was telling, he hoped with all he had she wouldn't accuse him as a criminal or something like that, and she snapped her jaw shut, bowing her head with a furrowed brow. Turning back to the ram, he continued. "If I had a single last coin, I'd give it to you, that's the truth. But I'm afraid I don't. If you would be so kind, we will leave you and your hay behind, and be on our way."

With a relieved sigh, when he jumped onto the stone pavement and started walking away, he turned back to see the ram only staring. That was the end of that problem. The next problem followed his lead and jumped from the cart, giving the ram an apology before dashing after him.

She stopped before him, pouting angrily with her hind paw hammering the ground irritably. "Again, I am Judith of the Hopps family," She said her name as if it would give her more authority. In truth, it was supposed to give her more authority, being born from one of twelve realm-ruling families, but then again, he was not supposed to exist. He was an exception. "And you _will_ answer my questions."

 _. . ._

 _…And from now on you will see more of Nick and Judy how nick and Judy should be._

 _thank all of you so much for reading so far!_


End file.
